


014 - Outside

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Reader-Insert, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 13:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17468585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “Can you do a story based off the song outside? Like how van comes back from tour and can’t keep away from this girl cause he is so in love eg "let them knock like crazy cause I’d not seen her in months”, “I try my best to keep away from you but when you beg for my company cause you know I’ll give it to you” that would be amazing THANK U ❤️"





	014 - Outside

**Author's Note:**

> As I'm moving this over from Tumblr, I cringe so. so. so. hard at these earlier ones... especially the songfics.

At first it was all peaches and cream, as in: it was pretty perfect. You'd met when Van walked into the café you were working at between uni classes. He'd drink tea by the pot full and waited until you finished your shift. You'd go out to bars and make a mess. His friends liked you, and you liked them. You spent countless nights slamming back shots and being carried through pretty city streets by Van. By the time you made it back to yours he would be covered in smudged lipstick. You liked it best when it smeared across his lips and onto his jawbone.

After the honeymoon period of the relationship was over, it got harder. Whenever you'd get an hour or two together, it was like you were on the outside of the rest of his world. You'd be sitting on the couch with him and feel bored. You'd want to talk about something, anything, but he was content just watching television. You'd try to tell him about your degree, or something important about politics, or why you thought he and Larry being so unapologetic about their love for each other was important role modelling, and he'd give you this glassy look. "You've lost me, love," he'd say. It wasn't that he was being unkind, Van McCann didn't have a mean bone in his body, it was just that nobody got through to him like that. He spent his time enjoying his easy life - his loving parents, his loyal friends, his successful band - all of that. He was just along for the ride and it frustrated you, even if you wish it didn't.

You wondered what he thought about it all, but you knew better to ask questions you didn't want the answers to. Maybe you should have talked about it though, before he left for the tour. He had been gone only a few weeks when you felt the cold intrusive feeling of loneliness sink into your skin.

You were at a bar with friends when you bumped into Dan from uni. He knew you had a boyfriend, but it was apparent he also knew Van was away. It was also apparent that he didn't care that Van existed. He was sitting too close and buying you drinks. Van hadn't called in a few days. You got your phone out and added a Snapchat to your Story. You knew that Benji would see it, and probably show Van. There was a clear line, a boundary, and you were pushing it. Maybe you were crossing it, you couldn't tell. You were blinded by all those little voices in the back of your mind.

The next day you knew Van had seen the videos. He didn't tell you so, but there was a new interview up on YouTube. He was flirting with the host like his life depended on it. He offered to take her out for drinks in the middle of the interview. You knew he got like that when he was nervous, but it was another boundary pushed. It was another voice in the back of your mind.

Then, it was over. You don't really know why you did it. Catfish had come home for a few weeks before they were due to leave again. There was a party at someone's house, and you and Van sat on a bed in a stranger's room. From behind the door people knocked, calling Van a superstar and telling him that his adoring fans were waiting. Honestly, the party sounded pretty fucking class. You said that you just didn’t know if you were right for each other and that it wasn't fair what you were doing to each other. He looked gutted. He stuttered when he tried to speak.

"But, I love you,"

"You don't Van. This is just… It was just fun, right? Another part of the ride for you. It's okay, it's just-"

"It's not like that!" His voice was shaky but he sounded so sure. "You're more than that. You save me from that."

It hurt. And it didn't stop hurting. It hurt for the rest of the night, as the craic carried on despite your entire fucking world caving in around you. It hurt for the weeks you knew he was in the same city as you. You ghosted places where you might have bumped into him. The café. The record store he loved. That one bench by the water you would go to when you were drunk together. You didn't see him though, it was like he was doing his best to keep away from you. It hurt on the day you knew he was leaving again. After months, and by the time he got back, it still hurt just as fucking much.

As quickly as it started, and as quickly as it was over, it happened again. You were sitting on the kitchen bench at a house party when you heard people cheer in the front lounge room. Someone special had arrived. "Catfish," they were chanting. That could only mean one thing. For a second you considered leaping across the kitchen, through the window, and off into the night. Instead, you lowered yourself down and walked to the doorway. You leant against the frame and watched as Van and the others moved about the room shaking hands and telling people stories. Van looked up and saw you, and you saw the sharp intake of breath he made. You thought you should probably smile or wave, instead you awkwardly turned around and walked away. 

You were in the back garden; most people had gone inside to see what all the commotion was about. Van followed you.

"Y/N. Alright?" It sounded like he genuinely cared, and you tried to let the pain of seeing him remind you why you broke up in the first place. You forced yourself to image all the girls he had probably been with, and all the shallow conversations they probably had.

"Hi, Van. Yeah. I'm alright. You?"

He shrugged in reply. The silence between you was suffocating.

"I miss you,"

"Van, please don't do this,"

"Can we go somewhere and talk?"

"We are talking. If we go somewhere… if we get an hour together, it won't matter, you'll just act like you miss me and-"

"Act?" he was hurt, but you bet you were hurting more. You took a breath before you spoke again.

"I've got to go. Kasey's been calling," you tell him.

"Tell your sister to wait, Y/N,"

"I've got to go," and with that you rushed past him, through the house and down the street. You half expected him to follow you and you fully wanted him to. He didn’t though.

Your sister was not calling. You had nowhere to be and nobody that needed you. You walked through the city and to the bench near the water. You sat for an hour. A whole sixty fucking minutes wallowing in all the mistakes you had made. You should have never broken up with him. You should have visited him on tour, like he always suggested. You should have tried to talk about things he actually cared about.

Your phone felt like a bomb in your hands. You were ready to set it off. He picked up almost immediately. He sounded so tired, and you couldn’t tell if it was because he'd just stepped off a flight before the party, or if it was because he knew you were about to do the biggest 180 in the history of human behaviour.

"Hi," you said and waited for a reply. He said nothing. "Um, I'm down at the bench, uh, our bench and…"

"You want me to come there? Now?" He sounded surprised, even though he had guessed what you were asking.

"Please, Van, please," you begged. He said he'd be there in a few.

You had your knees pulled up to your chest and your arms wrapped around your legs when he sat down next to you. He didn't look over to you; instead focused on the water.

"Past Larry on the way out of the party. Knew where I was going before I even told him. Said you need to make up your mind. Said I was crazy for coming to see you." Again, he wasn't being mean. He was just telling you truths about the world.

"What did you tell him?"

"That I hadn't seen you proper in months," his voice sounded sad and for the first time you wondered if maybe his pain could match yours. Maybe you didn't have the monopoly on heartbreak after all. "I know you want me to care about all the stuff you do, Y/N, but I don't know how to make that stuff get through to me, you know? I tried,"

"I know, Van," you sighed, you could see all the effort with 20/20 hindsight, "I know that now."

"I think I still need you," he said.

"Think, or know?"

"Think. I think I need you, but I know I love you."

He stood up and held a hand out. You took it. Falling back into his arms was a homecoming. You buried your face into his shirt and tried to soak up as much of him as possible. You let him squeeze his arms around your ribcage until it ached, until the hurt of the hug was more than all the hurt you'd felt in your heart over the past months.

"God, I fucking missed this. I was bound to, right?"


End file.
